D Blues Brothers
by Darmed
Summary: Kanda, being kicked out of his home, has to repay his debts. But how desperate is he?
1. It's Hammertime

_Now, this is the story all about how Allen's life got flip-turned upside-down. No, srsly._

**Chapter one**

_It's Hammertime_

Many have aspired to be able to push a car all the way from the Dover ferry port to the very heart of London, but so far, none had succeeded.

Men had desperately clung to the car's back to stay upright, only to realize they had barely arrived at the railroad and drop to their knees, giving up before the front wheels passed the first iron bar.

This is why, as soon as a car hobbled over the rails, passersby turned their heads in surprise and gasped when they saw a pair of feet from underneath the hood.

Kanda huffed, giving the trunk another push, successfully managing in sending the vehicle on a long trek downhill, something he did not notice until the car decided to kamikaze itself into the main street.

It was a shame that, as soon as Kanda was forced to let go of the back, with that making his rather successful attempt at breaking an international record futile, the taillights furiously blinking as if making fun of the man's misfortune, all he could do was curse and run.

* * *

Allen whistled the well-known tune of a commercial that never failed to make him smile.

Then again, it seemed every commercial touching Allen's proportionate love for confections twisted an emotional spot in the soft and gushy contents of Allen's heart.

His white shoes and ever so stylish tights pants treaded the path he had yet to walk to the ever delightful family bakery he had grown to love for its horrendously sweet pastries and sickeningly creamy cheesecakes.

Tourists swarmed around the distinct telephone booths and buses he had long since learned to avoid in fear of being trampled by ridiculously long mid-Europeans, tour guides trying to overpower the vocal chords of the mass of people he was paid to help understand the vast expenses of the oh so very rich British culture.

A group of students desperately clawed at their eyes as both Allen's teeth and the shoes the saleswoman had excitedly described as 'hip and trendy' passed the weeping girls.

Oh, how he loved this town.

As soon as he had passed the main street, he strutted through an alley.

Almost giggling in delight, he stood in the middle of his favourite neighbourhood in all of London.

* * *

_Well, screw this shit._

Kanda watched as the car he had owned for over half of his short life finally grew tired of the smoke, coffee spills and never ending Chuck Berry blaring from the hardly working yet loved radio and crashed itself into a wall, smoke erupting from the hood.

He would have to pay for that later.

Or he could make the pube spills his savings. After all, this was, though indirectly, his fault.

He walked into the most homosexual little street he had ever had the displeasure of showing his Asian features in; this had to be it.

Everything was going _just as planned._

Allen was entirely unamused when he saw who occupied his usual booth, seemingly chewing on a long string of licorice; even less when the transvestite whipped his long, inky black hair as he flashed his teeth.

"And what do _you _want?"

He sat down next to the socially awkward Japanese, folding his arms.

"Relax,"-Kanda refrained from using his usual vocabulary to refer to the little zit-"I'm here to talk. You know, the old times. Nostalgia and all that shit."

The man knew Allen was always in for some completely overreacted praise on his part, and when Allen smiled, he knew he had already won the battle.

Kanda also knew he had to be subtle about this whole ordeal; just carefully slip it into conversation.

Careful enough to not make it seem too blatant, and blatant enough for it not to be too careful and go unnoticed.

This is why Kanda, master of disguise, mentally shot himself in the dick when he very carefully mentioned he "hit the fucker in the fucking face!"

The boy looked baffled. "You did _what_ now?"

"You heard me. Bastard got hit in the face."

Allen had met Froi Tiedoll only once, and yet he could not possibly fathom why, dear God _why_, the man in front of him had deemed his very own foster father worthy of one of his ever famous 'Kanda pawnch!'-es.

"And so… what happens now?"

Kanda raised a slender eyebrow.

"Well, since I obviously got kicked out after that tiny misunderstanding and have no place to go-"

Allen sighed and rubbed his temple. "Let's keep this short, shall we? You need me for _what_, exactly?"

Kanda shrugged. "When leaving, I _seem_ to have ruined some… pretty_ goddamn _unimportant yet… _exquisite_ personal artifacts."

The fact that Kanda had upgraded his thesaurus for that particular sentence made it worthy for Allen to worry over. "A few in your terms or in mine?"

"Yours."

Allen winced visibly. "I repeat: you need me for _what_?"

"Five-thousand dollars within eleven days."

It sounded more like a question than a blatant statement.

"What the bloody _'ell_, Kanda?"

The man resisted the urge to punch the Brit in the face when the obvious, most annoying fucking accent came through.

"Dude." He resisted to add 'I think'. "I want to bring the band back together."

Those words made Allen open his mouth and not close it for the next ten minutes; Kanda was patiently sipping his tea and waited for him to close it again.

However, the word _'patience'_ didn't fit when in the same context as '_Kanda_'.

"_Why _would I want to help you reform the band?" Allen snapped. "I've finally got my life in a row."

With an indignant huff, he added: "Besides, you never planned on paying me back anyway."

"Oh, but that's going to _change, _my f-friend!"

At that point, Allen realized cheerful expressions were not what made the ladies dig the manwoman that was Kanda.

He suspiciously eyed the cardboard box the other seemed to lift onto the small, round bistro set table with fair difficulty.

"You see, I went shopping this afternoon and I found this _lovely _little shop."

He smirked. "But then I realized, 'what to do with all this?' After all, you know I'm not much of a candyman."

When Kanda took his time to engage in a rather successful staring contest, Allen averted his eyes and sighed in defeat.

"Okay, count me in."

* * *

_Oh my God. _"What happened to the bloody _Bluesmobile_?"

"It grew fucking tired of your face. We're taking the fucking ferry."

Allen glared. "You _do _realize we're going to have to take that along, do you?"

He pointed at what was left of their glory days, and after a few suggestive glances, Kanda realized he had to be the man in this freshly reconstructed relationship.

"Oh _Hell _the fuck no, dwarf. You push the wreck to Aisengard."

Allen shrugged and rolled up his sleeves, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

As he nonchalantly pushed the immobile vehicle uphill, one could softly hear humming from the boy's mouth.

It sounded like a well-known commercial jingle.

What was it again?

_Oh yeah._

_

* * *

_

_Then he looked at his box, saw it contained only air, but he said 'Nah, forget it. He's a man with fag-hair!"_

_K, so the older readers knoweth what tune I speaketh of. They simply _must_!_

_Oh God. Nostalgia. I remember writing the first version of this chapter, and I knew that, right as I submitted this, this story would grow out to be my baby. Now look at it; it's all grown up! Also, I kept only two lines of the original chapter._

_On a side note: I'm such a tard for LotR I even felt the need to include a lame and unsuccessfully constructed reference. _

_For the TRUE lulzy readers, me and my friend constructed this chapter in WONKA-vision! _

_For those wanting an explanation of this faggoty or who know and WANT IT SO BAD OMG TOO MUCH WANT, can simply PM or review :D_

_This also counts for the people who are very disappoint in this re-write and want the old chapter back. _

_I always reply BD_


	2. The kind of thing that makes you cool

**Chapter two.**

_**The kind of thing that makes you look cool.**_

"Goddamnit. Just get in the fucking car, Sprout."

Kanda said that as if it was a logical thing to be driving around in a pimped 50's police car. Allen believed he actually _did _think it was.

"Kanda.." he started, rubbing his temples. "I don't even want to know where you got this.. _thing_."

"Though I seriously don't want to tell you, I bought it at a police fair. They had all kinds of cool policemen shit." Kanda said expressionless, as he walked around the car and stepped in.

"..." Honestly, Allen _didn't_ want to react to that. "So. Where are we heading?"

Kanda sighed irritatedly, obviously going to do something considerate, which was something that he hated. A _lot_. "You really liked one of those Christian churches when we last went there, right?"

When Allen's eyes gleamed hopefully, he quickly added: ".. Not that I care about anything involving you being happy."

That didn't sound quite right.. "Or anything involving you at all."

Allen shrugged. He had always known the older man was _rude_, and he still didn't care. "Sure you don't."

Kanda huffed. "Get in the damn _car_, baka Moyashi."

* * *

Allen was sure he had seen something this beautiful only once before. It was a few years ago, when their band had still been together. Allen was inspiration-less, something that did not come in handy for the songwriter, so Lavi had suggested it.

Allen swallowed as he stared up at the huge coloured windows of the white building, eyes wide with pure.. hearted.. _ehr_.. ness.

If Kanda had actually been able to bring his face into something other else than a scowl or a glace, he would have smiled at Allen's platter-sized eyes. But since he couldn't, the corners of his mouth twitch up violently, and it still looked like that was caused by murderous intent, not because of amusement.

Allen blinked, and the platters shattered on the ground. Suddenly grinning, Allen stepped over the white shards, towards the huge, antique doors.

(Allen involuntarily thought he would never be half of the door's length. But those were random thoughts, and they did not fit in this storyline.)

When they'd stepped inside the church, it seemed like by closing the door, they had trapped themselves in an entirely different world.

The preacher stepped up in front, as they could do nothing but stand and watch, since every seat was taken by random (stylishly clothed, if I may add) people, eagerly looking up to the man who was excitedly holding his rhythmic speech.

Allen smiled brightly, not able to resist tapped his foot on the purple-carpet floor, the steady rhythm taking over his free will and muscles.

He paused, though, when he felt something being pushed up his nose.

".. I raise my eyebrow at this."

_Yep_. Those were _definitely_ the black shades he used to wear.

Allen supposed he did _not_want to know why Kanda had kept them for all those years.

"I _know _what you're planning, and if you're going to act like an idiot.."

"That was only once!_ Once_! And we fixed the window, returned that guy's shoe _and_ safely locked up those sea lions!"

"..Do it while looking cool."

Allen huffed; then nodded as the longer male also pushed dark-tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Have you seen the light?" the preacher called, all the people that had previously sat in benches dancing around him like they had some serious muscle-spasms, completely caught up in the music. _Not yet_, Allen smiled to himself.

As if on cue, a bright ray of light that would've blinded any normal sunglasses..-less guy shone upon the whitehead through the small window, sparkling and permanently burning the eyes of any onlooker. Lucky for this story's plot, Allen was no normal boy, and fortunate for his precious, innocent, big, shiny, grey eyes, he wore sunglasses. And he had _seen_ the _light_.

"Have you _seen_ the _light_?" he preacher repeated, this time a bit louder and, Allen had no deemed it possible, even more cheerful.

Allen raised his hands upwards, to the rectangular window, much to the seemingly irritation, yet deep down amusement of Kanda, who, even though he was a bi late in the take-up, started tapping his feet to the beat.

"I have seen the light!"

Once every person in the church had exasperatedly called out "_Hallelujah!_", Allen clasped his hands together with a loud 'smack' and spontaneously did a few flips towards the front, starting to make the same spastic movements as the other visitors (yet still looked cool, mind you), soon followed by Kanda, who was also unable to resist doing some very uncharacteristic backflips.

They flipped back to the doors and landed on their feet, that were still moving.

"Kanda..?"

Kanda hummed in response.

"We should go get Lavi and Lenalee soon."

He smirked when the other did and turned his whole body towards the other. "We're bringing the band back together."

* * *

**Happy Yullen week, everyone! =D**

**~Mary-Jane**


	3. Out of my fucking way

**Chapter 3.**

_**Out of my fucking way.**_

It was a dark, stormy, very ominous looking, mid-afternoon.. in July.. as Allen prayed to the Almighty Creator for him to be anywhere but in a speeding car, next to a cackling, rather feminine-looking man who obviously had a suicide-wish.

Seriously. I'm not making this up.

Well, except for the suicide wish. And the cackling. Instead of cackling, he cursed loudly, spouting a series of rather colourful words while he younger whitehead gripped the sides of his seat so powerfully his knuckles were slowly turning white, mumbling desperate chants to the lovely Protestant God, hoping He could make a little time to save his sorry ass.

Allen guessed God was a bit.. ehr.. slow.

_Oh dear lord, I'm going to die._

The tires shrieked as the car slid through another curve.

After they got back on a straight line of asphalt, Allen tried to still his voice until he could trust himself to speak without rambling.

"W-w-w-we're n-not in a h-hurry, a-are we?"

Well, he _failed_ at that. And the glare he received could probably make a cage fighter wet his tight costume pants and run into traffic. While shrieking. Very _manly_ shrieking.

Bu not Allen. He just sighed.

"And that was not an insult to your _brilliant _driving, because I know.. no wait. It was. Even a dried pickle could have managed driving better than you."

The older male narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Che. _Fine_."

He rammed his foot on the brake, entirely missing the red, glowing intersection he passed, nor the lights of the police car that stood by the road and accidentally noticed them when pointing out to the other how _his_ donut had jam-filling.

Kanda cursed loudly as he heard the blaring of serenes. "Shit. Rollers."

Allen stopped shrieking only to contemplate those two words. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of the so called 'rollers' right behind them.

After sighing and cursing uncontrollably, Kanda pulled over, waiting for one of the cops to roll his fat ass to his window. Which took ridiculously long.

Allen blinked as the cop commented about an intersection they had apparently passed, instead of the speed in which they did so.

Kanda sighed and looked at the horrible excuse for an educated cop, who stared at him with what Kanda knew to be small, empty eyes behind the glasses. This was turning out to be pretty easy. "The light was yellow sir."

The policeman sighed as if this was the eighteenth time he heard this sentence and simply asked for Kanda's driver's licence. Kanda took a ludicrous amount of time searching for it, eventually finding it right next to him, tucked underneath Allen's seat. He pulled at it and almost threw it in the cop's horribly ugly moustache, stopping himself before it hit the horrific excuse for facial hair and just handed a bit more roughly than usual instead. The lump of fat looked at it as if trying to process the small pieces of information through his small, beady eyes and then walked back to the car to insert the given information into the computer.

"When he comes back, we make a run for it," Kanda hissed, as if afraid the fat-blocked ears would hear him.

Allen looked at him incredulously. "No," he said firmly. "No _more_ trouble."

Kanda blatantly ignored him and went on with glaring at a rather unattractively looking bug on the window that had apparently also suffered Kanda's wrath.

"Kanda, you're not driving away." Kanda just kept staring at the green mush. "You're not."

The car bounced as the cop waddled back to their window. To Allen's relief, Kanda didn't jam his foot anywhere near the gas pedal. He did, however, see his foot move when the cop pushed his face so close against the other man's, his moustache nearly touched his cheek. "Well, mister.." He looked at the license. "It seems that you still have 56 unpaid tick-"

This is the point where Kanda simply stepped on the pedal, accelerated and shrieked away, checking in the mirror if the cop hadn't dragged his ass back to his partner's car yet.

This was also the point where Allen shrieked and started tearing out large chunks of his white hair. "Oh my God," he wheezed. "You did _not_ just do that."

Kanda ignored him pretty effortlessly.

"And now we're going to get caught and will get in jail where we will get raped by huge, chunky guys with long beards because they weren't allowed to shave because sharp objects could be used to kill one another and then the jail cell wouldn't look really all that appealing to outsiders.."

A small vein started throbbing somewhere on Kanda's forehead, in between his eyebrows.

"..And nobody will come and help us by the time they can actually hear our helpless cries through the walls, because prison guards are sadistic and voyeuristic bastards who might even come and watch while laughing as at least_** I**_ ruthlessly lose my precious virginity to some unshaven creep who is probably carrying the plague and syphilis and other creepy sexually transmittable diseases, so that I, once I get free-"

"They won't catch us."

Allen stared at him, mouth still open and slightly panting because of the ridiculously long sentences he had spoken in one breath. "What?"

"They won't catch us. We're on a mission from God."

Allen blinked and closed his mouth, temporarily satisfied with the answer. "Okay, so.. what are you going to do now?"

He knew he shouldn't have asked this, since you could still see a faintly throbbing vein just above the rim of Kanda's glasses, and once he had a pulsing vein, it might be smart not to provoke any ridiculous, crazy and slash or dangerous actions.

Allen tried not to shriek when Kanda raced over a parking lot, crashing through the window of an expensive-looking mall. Really, he did. But once your life flashes before you and you realise you haven't really done anything meaningful yet, people regularly start screaming, and so did he.

Kanda figured quite calmly he might even go shopping here one day. Kanda wasn't really one for shopping, but this place had everything. He saw several stores flashing by, from baby clothes and burgers, to disco pants and haircuts. That was a pretty efficient way of dealing with home-shopping. Not that he was actually planning to do that; he _did_ wonder, however, if these burgers were any good.

The sound of sirens alarmed him of the backup that had been called and he decided to shriek around a curve and just jam his heels on the brakes, waiting for the police cars to perform the action he expected them to do. He smirked calmly when he saw all of them crash against inanimate objects, some of them into a huge Christmas tree that had been set up in the hallway, other against poles, some of them even landing on the roof of their car. He calmly drove back a little, only to crash through the window again, in search for to road they had driven on previously.

Allen wheezed. Then coughed. Then wheezed again. Then seemed to choke, and then looked perfectly calm. He pushed the glasses he didn't know had slid off further on the bridge of his nose and calmly stared forward. "We should probably go look for some place to sleep."

Kanda nodded. "But first, I was planning on meeting.. an old acquaintance."

Allen watched his smirk, and immediately noticed who he meant. A small grin spread across his lips.

"No shit," he cursed. Kanda wondered if he had a bad influence on the boy. "You still know where Lenalee lives?"

* * *

_Ohmygod. This hasn't been updated for so long. I suck. D: And since I wanted to get this up fast, I didn't re-read it, so beware of typos and grammar and stuff ;)_

_~Mary-Jane_


	4. A Blast From the Past

**Chapter four.**

_**Blast From the Past.**_

"This place brings back some unpleasant memories..." Allen murmured as they stopped in front of the Lee residence.

Kanda nodded slightly as he glared at the eerily white front door. Allen's sneakers had been just like that at first, but the dust and mud had gained in on them; this door, however, was still as white as it had been four years ago, and still kept local residents from passing by in broad daylight without being blinded for half an hour after doing so.

"You go first."

"Hello no!"

Allen flicked an accusing finger in his face. "_You_ are the one who picked a fight, you are the one solving it!"

With a grunt, Kanda unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, walking up the front door. "Pussy."

Allen smiled as Kanda sagged his shoulders and rang the doorbell. He still smiled as the door opened and revealed Komui Lee, whose smile dropped immediately when the man in front of him found it safe to take his sunglasses off when the door had been safely directed towards the wall. He did not smile when the irked man smashed the door closed and the other cursed loudly, quickly pushing up glasses to save his eyes from the ridiculously white door. He turned around, glaring at Allen from behind his shades.

The boy sighed, pushed up his glasses - the epitome of coolness - and walked up to the front door, sitting on his knees when reaching it and opening the small cat door that the Lee family had had since their first cat which tragically came to an end in the so-called 'Lawnmower Incident'. "Mister Lee?"

A pair of feet re-appeared in front of the small cat door. There was a short silence. "Allen? Is that you?"

Allen nodded, then remembered the man was not able to see his face. "Yes, mister Lee. I am."

He heard the man sigh in relief. "Has that... _man_" - he spat out the word - "removed his ass off my lawn?"

Allen gave Kanda, who struggled to keep his mouth shut, an amused look. "Yes, in fact, he has."

Komui chuckled. "While I know that he is still there, I will let you in. Just wait a bit."

Kanda glared while Allen shot him a mocking glare as the door opened after the several clicks of locks being unlocked, Komui inviting them in while still glaring at Kanda with a fiery passion.

"So," he sighed when sitting down on the ugliest couch possibly known to mankind, adjusting his beret, "what brought you here?"

Allen coughed before Kanda could open his mouth to undoubtedly try to get them kicked out. "We actually came here to see Lenalee."

He smiled one of his sweetest smiles, which made Komui almost feel guilty for being angry at the wo_man _which was Kanda. "I'm sorry," - and he gave Allen one of his most apologetic looks - "but she moved out a year ago. Besides, I don't think I want _him_" - he glared at Kanda - "to meet her after what happened."

"Jesus Christ, Lee! It was a fucking accident! Give it a rest already!"

Komui visibly snapped. "It was a 'fucking accident' that left my dear, innocent Lenalee traumatized for life!"

"She didn't even fucking _mind_! It was _you _who went all apeshit about it!"

Allen sighed and rubbed his temples as both of them glared at each other - the sparks making their hair stand up - with folded arms and scrunched up noses. "I'm sorry for coming here, mister Lee. We just wanted to apologise to her. Do you perhaps know where we might find her?"

_Mister Lee's_ façade immediately softened as he turned to look at Allen. Because that's what the boy did to people. "Oh, it's no problem at all. I'm sorry I cannot be of more help to you."

He seemed to think for a moment, his brows softly furrowing. "When she left, she did leave me with some sort of address..." He stood up and walked towards the kitchen, almost immediately returning with a piece of paper in his hands. "It's on here, so you can go visit whenever you like. I'm sure she would love _your _company." Kanda huffed at the implied 'Haha, not you, dickhead', and Allen smiled at the way the emphasis was meant solely for him. Kanda torture was something he would always like, no matter the circumstances. "Thank you so much, mister Lee!"

"Not at all, my dear boy." Kanda winced at the slightly creepy words, which made chills run up his spine.

Allen looked at Komui apologetically. "I'm sorry we have to leave so soon, but it's getting rather late and we don't have a place to sleep yet."

Komui waved his apologies away with a loose wrist gesture. "That's perfectly fine. You must be tired after such a long journey."

All of them stood up, Kanda disappearing out of the door without a word of goodbye and Komui slowly walked Allen out, Kanda apparently voluntarily waiting for him by the door. Komui waved as they walked towards the car, unnecessarily pressing their awesome sunglasses up their noses again. "Good luck with finding Lenalee!"

Allen nodded with a smile as Kanda unlocked the car, and hopped in perhaps a little too fast to look unenthusiastic, waiting with celebrations until they were fully out of sight and once again on the open road.

"I can't believe that bastard is still going on about that," Kanda grumbled. Allen merely shrugged with an amused smile. While he had practically predicted Komui's reaction towards Kanda, it was still very entertaining to watch. "Well, I'm sure you could have at least expected half of all the unspoken death wishes he gave you."

"Che."

Allen chuckled at the characteristic response and returned to staring out of the window, where an entire flock of ominous-looking birds had entirely crowded the evening sky where the sun was slowly disappearing, before some of them flew off, revealing a dark-red horizon.

"Do you perhaps know a place we could stay for the night?" Allen raised his eyebrow. He had only thought about it when he noticed the fastly darkening sky, and he did _not _want to sleep in a car. Kanda didn't say anything for a while, seeming to contemplate the words, but then nodded instead. "I know this _wonderful _place nearby."

There he went again! The sentence scared Allen for more reasons than a normal human being could have - him being better than mere regular humans, since he wore sunglasses and an awesome suit. Knowing Kanda would never ever use the word '_wonderful_' in a sentence unless the subject involved a lot of pain, tears, bloodshed and slash or misery, he started mentally hyperventilating, losing the calm he had kept up all day, ever since he monstrously devoured every single ice-cream bar Kanda had generously given him.

Allen should have known; Kanda must have changed into being some kind of mentally disturbed from shock when their band broke apart, and running away from his mental hospital, picking up Allen to run away with him, resulting in him not taking his crazy pills, explaining the fact that almost every policeman in this state knew who they were because Kanda had felt the need to plant his foot on the gas pedal a bit harder than any normal person would at exactly the wrong time, not even thinking of pulling it off for the next fifteen minutes, and to demolish a few police cars, store windows, clothing racks and fake Christmas gifts. It also perfectly explained the use of eerily cheerful words he didn't even think Kanda had in his mental dictionary. It perfectly covered the whole story.

And now, Kanda had finally lost it, maybe taking him to some kind of deserted warehouse - no, better: a dungeon - to kill him where nobody would be able to hear his desperate and pained screams, muffled by the cloth Kanda might have -

No. Kanda wouldn't use cloth to muffle his screams. Kanda would probably enjoy his exclamations of excruciating pain.

_I have to get out of here._

He yelped, quickly pushing open the door and fighting against the strong hold of what he didn't know was, in fact, his seatbelt which he didn't think of taking off before trying to rush off towards safety.

"Oi, Moyashi."

He looked around, hearing the familiar click as his seatbelt sprang loose, the door of the car flung open, and he felt himself - mostly his cute, pretty little face - falling towards the asphalt. He didn't think the day would ever come when he would know how asphalt on his face felt, and actually, he didn't really want to know.

He gasped when he felt hands grab his shoulders, pulling him back in what perhaps was not the best way to prevent pain when his nose was just an inch from colliding with the painful-looking ground.

"I was going to say your seatbelt was still on, but it seems you found that out by yourself already."

They were standing in front of a shabby-looking hotel. But no matter how shabby it looked, it wasn't deserted, nor did it look like murder were likely to take place in there. Allen let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God. No dungeon there."

Kanda frowned. "What? Of course not! It may look a bit... well, poor, but the people are nice and we really can't afford anything better!"

Allen wanted to explain that that was not what he had meant. Really, he did, but he was too busy jumping out of Kanda's grasp, now merrily skipping through a path of sparkly, singing flowers, past prancing unicorns and magical cupcakes of imaginaaaaaation, towards the door of the building, leaving a whole path of flowing hearts in his path.

Kanda sighed and dragged his hand down his face in exasperation. He unbuckled his seatbelt, climbed out of the car and locked it, quickly following Allen and making sure to squish every poor, innocent pink heart and to stomp on every happily singing flower that dared to stay in his stomping of squishing range.

Neither of them saw the tall, looming shadow which rose from the ominous, dark void, immediately withering every flower within its direct range...

* * *

_Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn..._

_I love you guys for putting up with the huge gaps in between my updates :3 Writer's block FTL. D: Especially with Laven week coming up~_

_~Mary-Jane_


	5. The Mysterious, Mysterious ManMan

Chapter five.

_**The mysterious, mysterious man-man.**_

"Hey, Lloyd! Were there any calls for me?"

Allen was in shock. He was. Because apparently, Kanda was able to converse. With normal people. And the person still smiled. And wasn't dead yet. Allen wondered what amazing power had rampaged around in Kanda's brain while he was gone.

"First, Bret Michaels called; he wants his shirt back."

Allen watched Kanda's expressions intently, but they did not change. Kanda was either a silent murderer, planning everything carefully until nightfall and then bring his plans into action, or he really became more sociable and tolerant to every living creature in his direct environment.

...

Allen would have to find a way to restrain Kanda when the clock hit midnight.

"Also, the police left a note here for you."

Dear God, if you are somewhere near me, please save me from this man, his temper and his police record.

"Did they call for their shoes?"

Allen looked down. Those shoes were indeed the most lame-ass shoes he'd ever seen.

Wait.

Did Kanda just make a joke? He probably did, because the other was laughing his ass off. Or he just laughed easily. Time to test.

"Peanut butter."

Yes, he was pretty easy. Although, he had to admit, peanut butter was a pretty funny word.

When the man had wiped the tears from his eyes, he spoke further. "Nope, they wanted to arrest you. Since you weren't there, I told them to come back later."

"Thank you, Lloyd. You're such a great help."

Kanda had changed.

"Come on, Bean-sprout. I don't feel like waiting until you grow roots."

No, he had not. This was undoubtedly all part of a large plot. Allen was sure it had to do with revenge over minor things as first names. And blood. Lots of blood. And strangling. With a belt. Scratch that – Kanda would probably tie you up and cut you open slowly. There was no way he had changed.

"Hurry up, Sprout, before I have to tie you up and cut you open."

See? Not at all. His theory was flawless.

Satisfied with his undeniable and rock-hard logic, he stomped after Kanda, pretending to be really angry at the nickname, while it actually tickled his neither regions. Hush. Nobody will ever know.

When they finally managed to drag themselves up countless stairs, passing several drunkards and unshaven forty year-olds, Kanda cracked open the door to the room that was apparently his with a loud CRACK! which shattered the eardrums of every middle-aged and older woman within the neighbourhood and beyond.

Could Kanda have poisoned anything he had eaten between now and a few hours ago? Allen fell back on the shabby bed in the dusty corner, scaring away a few rats who had apparently found the covers a good place to produce and raise their offspring on, suddenly feeling dizzy and incredibly tired. Every time someone had felt tired around Kanda, he had either poisoned anything that had entered their stomach or was planning to afterwards, no matter how much he claimed to not have done anything and blame 'those damn Russian bastards and their pasta, because Russians were not supposed to make those kinds of dishes'.

Kanda sat down in a chair which looked like it would immediately crack if he would merely shift and looked anywhere but at Allen. "You take the bed."

It was barely a mumble, yet you could hear it clearly over the deafening sudden quiet of the room.

Allen's eyes widened from where he lay and he sat up suddenly, a giant cloud of dust surrounding him and filling his lungs, the gasses that erupted more harmful to ones body that the atom bomb from 1945.

Was that... a kind offer?

Even though Allen tried to trick himself into thinking it was all a trap, the hard, protruding springs and mouldy, poisonous smell were oddly comfortable and he wasn't really keen on leaving them for about ten hours from now. He had to t-t-trust Kanda, even though... past experiences... should have taught him to never even attempt anything of sorts. Allen realized it was stupid, but he had to keep his priorities, and, at the moment, he rendered his comfortable sleeping place more important than his own personal safety slash chastity slash life.

So he eventually chose to glance at Kanda with his puppy-dog, wide-eyes, cutesy glance in hopes of mercy when the man decided to tie him up anyway. Honestly, Allen was fine with rape, as long as he didn't get cut open. And at least, when that happened, he lay on a hard, stiff, hot, throbbing-

Wait. What?

He lay down onto the aforementioned mattress, a particularly sharp spring protruding his eyeball. He sighed and glanced at Kanda. Kanda must have been incredibly angry and reluctant in giving up his bed, because his face was red as a tomato as he grabbed his coat at sagged down in his chair, pulling the thin cloth over himself in a futile attempt to keep himself warm for the night.

Allen sighed and turned his face towards the window. Even though he wanted to, he couldn't sleep. Not now. Not when he felt like something incredibly horrific was going to happen – and his pea-brain had figured out long since that these horrific happenings had to have something to do with Kanda, who had a record for these things.

He heard Kanda's breath softly even out, but couldn't be fooled. He might just be pretending to sleep. He might just sit there and wait until Allen lost patience, gave up and went to sleep before he retrieved his dark side and ra-

Took Allen's rosy-coloured, pure virginity. And Allen wasn't entirely planning on letting that happen.

Yet.

Those stars outside were really beautiful though...

No. No, not at all. Focus.

But he was really tired...

No. He would sacrifice one night's sleep to save his chastity.

But closing his eyes for one moment wouldn't hurt, now would it?

Ah, who cared.

And Allen softly closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep; so deep, in fact, that even if there would have been the loud EXPLODING of EXPLOSIVES, he wouldn't have heard a thing. So deep, that even if the building would have collapsed under the EXPLOSION, he would have slept on.

Hint hint, wink wink.

--+

Outside, the shadow slowly moved along, setting the last details for his – oh whoops, spoiler – trap, his talons – oh no, another - closing around his artwork. This was going to be one hell of a-

No more spoilers for you.

--+

"Are you sure this is the place?"

"Henry."

"Yus?"

"We were here before."

"Right."

The two brainless cops stood in front of the motel, entirely oblivious to the danger coming their way.

Danger?

Of course not.

They walked up to the hotel, pulling out their evil notepads of eternal doom and weeping poor families and put on their strictest looks. Someone was going to pay.

--+

Revenge.

The shadow pressed the handle.

--+

The police would never know what happened to them when a sudden explosion blew them away from the small building, the sound shattering their eardrums into a million little shards, rendering them incapable of use ever again. The building itself collapsed into a heap of dust and bricks.

On the sidelines, a figure smirked and slowly walked away, all shadow suddenly dispersing – hint hint, wink wink.

Nobody would have ever been able to survive a blow like that, would they? No human could handle that much power; that much pure, compressed evil. Except, of course, if you would wear an awesome suit and shades. _Then _one would actually be able to survive anything. Do not underestimate the power of coolness.

A hand suddenly arose from a particular pile of bricks, a cloud of dust surrounding it still. Then an arm and eventually a head and upper body. Kanda Yuu stood up from where his seat had been crushed underneath the weight and started blindly picking up other bricks, searching for a head of white hair, which he found soon enough.

The boy looked around him, still sleepy and dazed. "What happened here?"

Kanda shrugged. Nothing, actually. "Nothing, actually."

He brushed the cement from his tainted suit and looked at his watch. "It's three o'clock. Time for work."

--+

_Oh, don't you look at me like that. This was practically a filler. It's three AM! I wasn't thinking rationally!_

_This is dedicated to mah BEE EFF EFF, LANE coughcough**Abreaction**coughcough, because I just love her that much and desperately tried to not make this crappy. As you can see, I failed._


	6. La Bamba

**Chapter 6.**

_**La Bamba.**_

"Oh dear Lord." Allen's look of horror was nothing compared to the look of utter disgust Kanda made when he saw the lights and the sheer happiness of their surroundings.

The distinctive sound of a version of Ritchie Valens gone wrong floated from the festively decorated windows and brightly coloured lanterns and queer decorations stood next to the walking path. Kanda stood still, afraid that if he would walk on to the peculiar Mexican restaurant, his feet would scourge off. The slight affectionate feelings Kanda _might_ have been able to feel for any other living organism, weren't enough for him to sacrifice his own sorry ass to something which eyes this - dare he say the word - _jolly_.

Even Allen seemed slightly repelled by the amounts of happy radiating from the place.

"Are you sure this was right address?"

Allen sighed. "Yes, Kanda."

"Really? That woman looked like she could have invented parchment and then broken in half on the spot."

Allen didn't answer; not out of anger, but simply being proud of Kanda for just uttering one of the smartest things he had ever heard escaping the wo-man's mouth. He was thinking he might have had a good influence on him.

That, however, did not change the fact that the man had just managed to make him doubt the directions the old lady at the bus stop by the road had given him.

This place indeed didn't seem anything like his only female friend – especially not like anything she would choose to work at. Would he risk his own sanity to find out if this was really something she'd choose as a spare profession?

After a few minutes of thought, he turned around.

Don't get him wrong – he loved and respected her as a friend, but he thought he knew her better than to think she'd seriously take a job in some fake, lame-ass Mexican joint.

He sat down in the carseat after swiping a crapload of cigarette butts onto the pavement to represent the amount of love and care he gave to his sweet Mother Nature, and smashed an empty bottle he picked from the backseat a few feet from the retired police car for emphasis, but, after sitting down, he noticed Kanda, eager to leave as he had been, had made no attempt to leave the colourful pebbles he had been standing on for near fifteen minutes.

"'Ey, Kanda, mindless git! What're you-"

Oh Lord. "Oh my God."

"Lenalee?"  
Kanda was the first to speak, surprisingly enough.

As expected, a sombrero-clad head whipped around and green eyes widened. Allen had already stepped out of the car and had walked to stand right into Kanda's enormous personal bubble whilst listening to the rhythmic jingling of the bells on Lenalee's clothing as the approached them, his mouth agape and his eye twitching at every joyous sound the strange, stereotypically Mexican outfit made.

Allen could not think of anything other to say than "nice poncho", after which he simply shut his mouth and decided to be quiet while the little bit more rude one of the two decided to finally open his and spill the clear opinion he obviously had about the other's get-up.

"What the _fuck_, woman?!"

Lenalee's smile only wavered a little. "Problem, Kanda?"

The frown in Kanda's face deepened as his brain his brain seemed to prepare for the sentences he was about to say. "Why the fuck work _here_?" He stopped for a moment, and then added "no offence", nodding to the men who seemed to be Lenalee's new 'bandmates'. He turned back to Lenalee. "You were one of the best! You were the _Don _of Blues! The backbone of this band! Why, for fuck's sake, would you degrade yourself only to embarrass another culture with his moron _fucking _performance?"

He inhaled a fresh breath of oxygen to undoubtedly start with part two of his rant. Lenalee winced at the thought. Surprisingly enough, Kanda's voice sounded anything _but _angry when he next spoke. "We're bringing the band back together."

Lenalee looked like that concept was a little hard to grasp. "I thought that was already over – Over being, you know, _over. Permanently._"

Kanda sighed and for a moment, he looked a bit guilty – that is, if Allen hadn't known any better.

"I know, and I know a lot of crap happened, but I really want this to work!"

Allen stared at him. Kanda was pretty damn good at the whole "Oh noes I'm so sad"-performance. Either that, or he had seriously changed drastically.

Allen ran over than concept for a moment.

_Nah._

"We _need _you."

Lenalee's eyes widened, and she seemed to think deeply. She eyed the both of the carefully, going from Kanda's suspicious smile to Allen's troubled look. "This all sounds very suspicious."

To help Kanda, like the good, reliable, nature-loving friend he was, Allen decided to add a few encouraging words. "Len, we need five-thousand, fast."

She gaped. "Five-thousand? Who do you think you are – the Beatles?"

Kanda glared at him. "I'm sure that with your help we'll make it."

Lenalee frowned. "You _are_ going to pay me this time, right?"

Kanda was quick to answer a little _too _eagerly. "Of course!"

Allen thought about Kanda's ways of paying him in the last few weeks. He decided to wisely keep his mouth shut.

Lenalee smiled and nodded. "I'll do it!"

"_Blinding!_"

Allen definitely had a good influence on the man.

--+

_The End. Oh God. Just shoot me now. D8_

_I'm _**_so _**_sorry for totally neglecting all of my stories and I know that it's no an excuse, but a lot of crap happened, I suffered from depression and writer's block._

_GO AHEAD - TAKE THIS GUN. I DESERVE IT._

_THIS SHORT, CRAPPY CHAPTER WAS NOT WORTH THE WAIT._


	7. Click Three Times

**Chapter 7.**  
_**Click Three Times.**_

"God, woman! It was an accident!"

Lenalee hissed and turned around in her seat, clearly planning on ignoring the other man for as long as it took to get to their destination - maybe longer, if she found it necessary.  
Allen found himself questioning their current situation, while Lenalee started plucking carrot off her pants and made a mental note to never again eat anything while Kanda was driving.  
The whole discussion had been kind of fishy, Allen thought. Especially when Kanda offered to help Lenalee search for bits of vegetables that had forever disappeared down the valley that was her shirt.

A useless act, Allen knew, because once something had fallen down _the valley_, it was doomed to return nevermore.

He closed his eyes and shortly mourned for the lost souls that had found themselves in Lenalee's healthy diet salad.

Not to mention it was Kanda's fault in the first place. He had found it necessary to speed their car into a large group of the Illinois local gang of protesters trying to give WWII a hand, laughing maniacally as they all tried to save their arses by jumping into the freezing cold Illinois river, making it look like an oversized, one-feet-deep kiddy pool.

He quickly drove on, mumbling something about, dare Allen think it, 'fucking Illinois nazis', being fuelled by the cheering of the opposing group of protesters, mostly consisting of hippies and gypsies.

For a moment, that moment consisting of several minutes and sideway glances, Allen had truly thought Kanda had gone barmy - or, in different words that strangely all meant the same which could elaborate how he thought of Kanda's mental state: wacky, completely bonkers, fruity, loopy, haywire or just downright _mad,_ - when he started laughing and just did. not. stop.  
After she stopped paying excessive attention to getting the salad dressing and lettuce out of her low décolleté, even Lenalee really had nothing to do but stare. Allen decided to get him to stop by drastic measures and his manly charm: yelling from the backseat.

"Yo, HOMO!"

Kanda's mood changed so drastically it made him seem like a schizophrenic. When hysterically creepy Kanda shut the Hell up, the Kanda with anger-management problems came to sudden life, breathing fire all over the bloody place. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking tight-assed faggot." His hair slapped Lenalee in the face when he whipped it back to stare out of the front window to not bleeding kill them all.

"Kanda. You have one-and-a-half feet of hair," Allen deadpanned in his defence as he managed to completely destroy his defiant attack of the only manly hormones in the entirety of his _male_ - I repeat: _male_ - body, by just sitting back down, folding his arms and pouting like a chick who just found out the guy was never even going to show up, nor pay for her movie ticket.

"Whatever, Alfred."

"It's Allen!"

"Shut up, Alfonse."

Lenalee seemed to just realise something, her expression suddenly changing to one where she seemed to not think about her words before flapping them out of her lipsticked lips. "You _hit _me!"

Kanda just turned around and managed to do the same thing twice. "Shut the fuck up, you Mexican!"

Lenalee gasped and made to shout a witty reply. Allen decided to join in with the fun.

* * *

If there was anything Lenalee and Allen had in common, it was their mutual hate for walking. For one, it ruined expensive shoes they had spent hours of carefully selecting and fitting.

Second, it was tiring, ruined their hair and made them smell like sweat. None of those were actual pluses.

It _did _help you lose weight, but if they had intended on doing that, they would have worn another carefully selected outfit that flattered their figure and would have gone to the gym just to be able to hear people tell them they were gorgeous as they were and therefore did not need to lose any weight, which in turn – though Allen hated to admit it – made them giggle like schoolgirls and made them remember the time when they were both still fourteen and complimented themselves for still being able to pull it off.

Kanda, however, simply hated _whining_, and therefore spent most of the time walking way ahead while brooding as the other two cursed him from somewhere way behind.

In short, Lenalee blamed the car, Allen blamed Kanda and Kanda blamed the tree for the inconvenient loss of said car; righteously so, he found, while desperately clutching his wallet through his right pocket.

It's not that he was racist – it was just that he had certain experience with these kinds of things, which made him, obviously out of instinct, protect his money.

No racism intended. Experience? Very much so.

In the back, Allen even had trouble keeping up with Lenalee, who was still angry at Kanda for simply selling the old car (she kept repeating the good ol' Dodge would have easily been able to handle a crash like this), since, and he hated to admit it, his legs were simply shorter.

He didn't mind walking a bit slower than the long strides the both others felt necessary to take, even if he did feel the instinctive need to clutch the wallet in his backpocket, making it seem like he was constantly squeezing his own arse (as if anyone would have been able to remove the wallet from the tight jeans, clinging to Allen's buttocks like its life depended on it, without first having to make him stop walking and deftly cut them open with scissors, being careful not to hit the skin underneath.)

Around him were girls, shopping while animatedly mobile conversing with their girlfraaans, musicians, earning their daily bread by playing the guitar while loudly singing about their love and life and of course the people who provided the musicians with that money by neatly dropping coins into their open guitarcases or turned hats.

Kanda sighed, the irony cutting him in the skull and making him scratch his head. He remembered himself playing in exactly these streets (he bet the bastard had moved here to figuratively stab him in the gut for his fun), receiving his daily bread in the empty case of his trusted--

Oh, there it was.

* * *

Allen, running behind the two, did not notice the sudden left turn in Lenalee's route until the very last moment. In an attempt to save himself by having to run more by having to turn and walk back, he swiftly swung his right foot over his left in a desperate endeavour to change directions, almost tripping, and stumbled through the door Kanda and Lenalee had disappeared through, almost immediately colliding with an old-school keyboard, which was conveniently placed almost right in front of the entrance.

To Allen's horror, the undoubtedly very expensive instrument all but forthwith toppled over, whereafter it hit the ground, a final key striking, filling the room with the loud and probably final sound of a dying thousand dollar keyboard.

A clank. A bang as the back door swung open and hit the wall, cracking the white ceiling above it. Heads all turned as a figure stepped from the back of the shop, mouths gaped as he walked towards Allen, red hair shining underneath the tube light.

Allen blinked as he looked up, only to stare right into the barrel of a shotgun. He blinked. He opened his mouth. He blinked again.

A click as the man cocked his gun. The other's finger moved slightly before--

"Hey Al! Long time no see!"

Allen knew that voice.

A bright smiled appeared as the loaded gun almost deep enough in Allen's nose to pick at his brain was carelessly thrown aside.

Red hair, the ever-present eyepatch surrounded by skin that had wrinkled by the constant upturn of the boy's lips as he took his friend's expression as a stroke to his ego.

Allen did not particularly find the situation funny, but he couldn't control a smile from slipping on his lips nonetheless when he took the hand his good friend Lavi reached out to pull him up.

He mentally slapped himself in the face; of course it would be him.

"Dude, you look like you just died!" He laughed at his own joke as Allen hit him over the shoulder. "I seemed to be pretty close a few seconds ago, you git!"

Lavi easily brushed the accusation off by the classic changing of the subject. "So, what're you doing here? Lookin' fer one of those?"

He smirked as he pointed at the keyboard on the floor, Allen noting to his greater shock that several famous artists had littered the thing with autographs, which made its taxation rise a fair amount. Allen winced guiltily.

"Actually," he started, expression sweet and slightly begging, like Kanda had told him to. "We're here for you."

Lavi frowned. "_We_?"

Kanda and Lenalee appeared, as if on cue, from the side, where they had been looking at the wide variety of first-class instruments. "Nice place," Kanda added, managing to actually make it sound like a compliment. Allen wondered how long he had had to practise that very sentence to pull that off.

"Yuu!" Lavi's eyes brightened as he noticed the two. Lenalee waved and smiled her greetings.

"No fuckin' time," kanda prompted, followed by a muttered 'nice as ever'.

"Shut the fuck up, Alucard." He stood in front of Lavi and glared. "You still got the Gibson?"

Lavi smirked and his eyes glinted. "Of course. How could I ever get rid of her?"

"We're bringing the band back together."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Allen's eyes widened as the two shared a very manly hug, which lasted briefly before an equally manly handshake sealed the deal.

"Welcome back, Dickweed."

"Thanks, Douchebag."

Lenalee watched the spectacle with folded arms and a clear frown, thinking she'd probably never understand guys as well as they did themselves.

Lavi retreated his hand, looking like something suddenly struck him, and disappeared into the back for what seemed like an entire era.

He then returned, on his back his trusty Gibson, in his hands, however, Kanda's good ol' saxophone.

Lavi knew Kanda was grateful. He'd known the pothead for longer than the other had liked – far longer, to be precise, for Kanda had never been one for any social behaviour – and he could read his face just as easily as he could read the morning comic in the morning newspaper he liked to read, while accompanied by a cup of tea.

It was just against his principles, pride, ego and image to utter even a simple thank you for the safekeeping of the sax Kanda had loved like the daughter they both knew he was never going to get.

His customers, however, had looked a lot less grateful when he kicked them out of his store and announced it to be closed until further notice.

"You'd better pay me this time," he told Kanda sternly. "This's gonna cost me a crapload."

Kanda nodded, apparently having passed his daily limit of words to vocalize.

"And, you know-"

Lavi halted.

"Wh-"

His eyes slowly widened.

"_Dude_-- where's the Bluesmobile?"

Allen joined in. "Don't worry. That's the first thing I wondered too."

"Shut the fuck up, Alinda. We're walking."

Besides Lenalee and Allen, who eagerly let their displeasure be obviously known to the masses, Lavi himself didn't seem so keen on that plan either.

"Well, as my dear old friend Oz used to say-" He seemed to think for a moment here. "Click your heels three times and think to yourself, 'there's no place like home'."

They did.

Nothing happened.

* * *

**GUYS, I'm sorry for not updating and all that jizz blahblahblah true regret I swear. But hey, at least I /updated/ ;D Oh, and thought I noticed this will cost me reader(s), this story is quite obviously _not _AllenxLenalee, you silly girls.**

**I LOVE YOU ALLLLLL. **

**Reviews will earn you lovecookies.**

**~MARY-JANE.**


	8. Salt on Your Pepper

**Chapter eight**

_Salt on your pepper_

If there was anything Kanda liked, in between the endless sea of crap he hated and would shoot when in sight thanks to the shiny new gun license he applied for weeks before he went to visit the homosexual midget in the first place, it was walking.

The obvious reason for this would be that it build endurance, and Kanda knew, more than anyone, that it took endurance to build endurance.

That is, if Kanda would have been that incredibly easy.

No, Kanda's reason for his recently found liking to speed walking had more complex roots.

For one, it was a case of superiority, since he was obviously the complete and utter winner at everything having to do with the refined act of putting left in front of right.

This led him directly to his close second: winning.

Kanda liked winning.

He loved winning.

He wanted to rent winning at the video rental store and watch it all night long, make coffee for it in the morning and give it a nice, hot shower after a tender breakfast.

Too bad they didn't sell victory, or Kanda could have had this sweet atisfying feeling every day.

What was that? Was that the loud, wailing noise of a tragic downfall?

* * *

Lenalee did not particularly like being ignored.

Especially when she felt like she had some serious shit to say.

This, accompanied with her pride, was the reason she stood still after running up and using her nice, pointy heels to give Kanda's smooth, Japanese shin a polka dot design.

She waited until the oh so very colourful homosexual rainbow of words had subsided before she confidently put her hands on her hips, pursed her lips and straightened her back.

"Kanda, we need a ride, man," she stated.

* * *

Lavi smiled. This could have possibly been the best day of his still rather short and yet comically succeeded lifetime.

He wacked the grimacing boy sitting next to him on his back, barely saving him the pleasure of having to deal with a very unfortunate whiplash. "Come on, Allen! Turn that frown upside-down!"

If Allen hadn't been so thoroughly embarassed, Lavi would have totally burst into random song of the Disney variety.

His utter joy was mostly based off of their current vehicle.

Because, he swore, when Lenalee claimed to have connections and suggested they get a vehicle, no matter how keen Kanda had been on walking for some reason, none of them had expected to soon be driving a brand new and very gay van, hereby using 'gay' in both its thesaural meanings.

From the sunrays on the hood, the smileyfaces on the roof and side and the pink spraypaint to the Beatles lyrics on the doors, this car might as well have gotten lost on its way to the pride parade, no matter how often Lenalee tried to convince them otherwise.

It was therefore everything Lavi was and Kanda was absolutely not.

Allen was entirely unimpressed; this because Allen was quite obviously gay in only one of its meanings.

Lenalee sighed. "Guys, I know what you're thinking and it's like a fucking suicide film."

"And I'm replaying it in my mind with great pleasure."

She glared at Kanda with a passion. "Don't be an ass. It's not my fault you kill _trees_ for a living."

Kanda took obvious offence and his face distorted into one Allen only knew to often appear whenever he mentioned Kanda's ruined John Lee Hooker rare record.

"It's not my fucking fault that fucking tree decided to fucking grow there and conspire to kill my car."

"Dude, you _crashed_ the Bluesmobile?" Lavi piped in. "And here I thought the good ol' thing was indestructable!"

Allen decided to help Kanda's deathrays along and simply added: "Oh _right_! You crashed that one _also_!"

Incredulous stares were shot his way.

"Woah. Hold the fuck on, doctor Jekyll. _Also_?"

"Shut the fucking Hell up, Dairy Queen. Focus on the fucking mission. God stares down in disappointment at our delay."

Allen didn't wince the slightest. "Duly noted, Rapunzel."

Kanda didn't know how insulted to look. "Who the flying fuck is _Rapunzel_?"

"On with the mission!"

* * *

Lenalee had to thoroughly admit she hadn't even the slightest idea who they were next to collect. She had been one of the last to join the band so she didn't know where the rest of the members chose to hang out. She hoped it wasn't that icky man.

That eh...

She tapped her chin.

She hadn't noticed that they had already stopped and her high heels clacked on the small bricks decorating the street as her feet came dangerously close to Allen's ankles.

Were they planning on going into the small restaurant? Because she had been quite hungry for a while now.

"Okay, faggots." Kanda pushed the shades up on the bridge of his nose. "This is a job me and the tiny homo should fix."

Lavi winced. "I'm sure none of us would be willing to witness _that_."

He ducked to avoid a swiftly applied high jumpkick.

Kanda pushed Allen forward, ignored Lavi's calls of 'Hey, if you need one, I have a condom to protect Allen against all the hoe-AIDS you're undoubtedly carrying with you! It's used though,' and walked into the run-down fastfood restaurant he knew to be their target.

* * *

"This place looks just as we left it." Allen looked incredulous. The wallpaper peeled at the exact same places, the same barstool that they had known were never going to be fixed were sting barely hanging on and the same smell of frying oil and cigarettes blocked them from the safe _oxygen_ they had been breathing only seconds ago.

Kanda nodded in aknowledgement. "Let's hope they still fucking work in this shithole."

Allen straightened his hat and pushed up his sunglasses, immediately pulling on his tie to try and help his lungs breathe in at least some fresh air the second, unconsciously giving himself a more organised appearance, and sighed.

Kanda had already walked up to the counter and chose to sit on the most dangerous barstool in the entire run-down joint: the creakiest stool at the far end of the cafeteria, farthest from the exit.

He impatiently tapped his fingers on the dilapidated edge of the top of the hard, red plastic and waited for the waitress, Allen joining him on the barely standing stool next to him.

"What can I get you two?"

He stared up at the ridiculously made-up face and upheld hair of the woman he immediately knew to be their mutual enemy. He decided to answer her question as politely as he could. "Three chickens, _please_."

She missed the emphasis and frowned at the strange request instead. "And would that be chicken legs, chicken wings-"

"Just three chickens, miss."

She reluctantly noted the order on her notepad, her long, painted nails scraping over the yellow paper. She stopped writing and raised a drawn-on eyebrow to the other.

"Bread." After a sharp glare reminded him to use whatever what was left of his manner after he reached puberty, he added: "_please_."

The woman's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her drawn hairline. "Would you like anything on that?"

"No," he growled. "White bread. Nothing on it."

"Alrighty then." The noted the order underneath the first. "You want anything to drink with that?"

"Some tea, please."

"Water."

After the man saw her open her full lips, he snarled in annoyance. "Nothing in it."

_Great,_ she thought. _Two greatest weirdos during _my_ shift._

She walked to the back, her heels clacking on the broken tiles, to notify her husband of the order so he could get to the frying and baking part she had so very little understanding of.

"Honey?"

Her husband turned his sight away from the frying pan, his grey-streaked hair sticking up in awkward angles through his hairnet. "Y-yes, sweetheart?"

"There are two _strange _men here. Ordered _three whole chickens _and plain white bread!"

The timid man's eyes widened and a smile caused his sharp, white teeth to gleam in the cheap tube light. "Why, that's Allen and Kanda!"

With an uncharacteristic jump of joy, he started to untie his apron after pretty unsuccessfully wiping his hands clean of the grease on the dirty towel residing next to the stove, where a pot of questionable vegetables was boiling. "It's the Blues Brothers!"

He ran past his wife towards the bar, where he saw the comical duo sit, talking to each other with nearly three inches worthy of being called 'space' between their noses, plotting, just as he remembered. "Allen! Kanda!"

He enthusiastically hugged the boy who had just stood up, eyes widened in surprise and a grin threatening to spread all over his small features.

The other simply nodded and remained seated for the moment. A simple "Krory." was mumbled in aknowledgement.

The fry-cook wasn't the slightest bit put off by the other's rather unenthusiastic greeting. "What brings you guys all the way to these parts?"

Kanda stood up and leaned sideways, the bar creaking in slightly visible protest. "_We're_ here," he started with slight emphasis, "because we're bringing the band back together."

The man smiled widely and opened his mouth to undoubtedly tell them something among the lines of ''kay, let me get my coat' or any other form of consent, only to be interrupted by his wife standing in the portal leading to the small hallway, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

"Oh _no_." She wagged her finger near his pointy nose. "You ain't goin' _nowhere_."

"Eliade," the man sighed in protest, but the angry female would have none of it.

"No, Krory. Not again. We make a good living now, and you finally let all this... this... _whatever the Hell it is _behind you!"

Krory gasped. "Never, Eliade!"

Allen softly tiptoed back to Kanda and stood on his toes to whisper in his ear. "She's going to sing, isn't she?"

Kanda looked shocked. "Oh holy fucking mother of God I _hope _not. Krory, get your fucking shit. And call that other woman, 'cause she's fucking coming too."

Eliade barely had any time looking offended before Krory whooshed past her, into the kitchen, pulling the barely protesting sous chef along, her black hair still underneath her hairnet until she pulled it off and it just swept behind her when she desperately tried to reach for her coat before getting pulled out the door.

Eliade stood in the middle of the diner, softly dropping into one of the seats. She quickly stood up when she noticed everyone's staring and walked back to the kitchen, though not before securely taping a 'Wanted - Fry Cook' note behind the window.

* * *

As soon as they left the café with the two newest additions to their awkward crew, Allen realised he was never going to get those chickens.

* * *

_WHAT IS THIS. A double update? DURING THE BLOODY WEEK?  
To all of you who thought that: LOL JK SORRY._

_I'd like to announce that I'm going to re-write the first few chapters (the first re-write is already up, so check it out :D) as to make them suit at least half of my own expectations and my style of now (represented by chapter 7, if I may add, the only chapter I liked.)_

_ALSO, just because the sheer amount of votes in my poll, you people are getting Tyki. JUST NOT IN THIS CHAPTER._

_BTW, a new shiny poll is up and there's a pretty contest on my profile. THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY HA-HAA._


End file.
